


5+1 Times Blue Sees Zero's Face

by Anticipatio



Series: He's My Collar [6]
Category: Campaign (Podcast), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aggression, Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Anger, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Kidnapping, Awkward Romance, Blood, Blood and Violence, Blue doesn't like sand, Bounty Hunters, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Cooking, Cybernetics, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fever, Hacking, Heat Stroke, Injury, It's course and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere, Kidnapping, Kissing, Loss of Control, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mutual Pining, Pain, Pining, Rage, Relationship Discussions, Romance, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vomiting, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anticipatio/pseuds/Anticipatio
Summary: Gank technology, even at its peak, was fallible. Sometimes, Zero's suit was damaged. Sometimes, his helmet was damaged. Very rarely, Blue would be there when his helmet (or he) was damaged.





	1. Shot Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why Zero was hired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17BBY, Mandalore

Blue was already having a bad day by virtue of being seventeen (eighteen in _two months,_ thank-you-very-much), so being shooed away from the estate while an extension was built over the ruins of their neighbor’s house soured him further. “I don’t know why they took so long to sell the land,” he ranted, fingers dancing on the surface of his disposable caf cup. Occasionally, he’d have to slow his gait to allow Zero to catch up without having to jog.

Zero once heard that humans had their growth stunted if they drank too much caf, but now he was starting to believe it just caused them to become disproportionate. Why else would Blue have longer legs than him when he was still few inches shorter? “I dunno, boss, it might be that it was passed down the family for a dozen generations?”

“Well, at least the siege gave us an opportunity to expand.” Blue took a swig of caf and resumed his fidgeting.

He was about to respond, but the softest of mechanical hums caused Zero to pause in his tracks. It barely registered underneath the blips of activity that were Blue’s incessant tapping, but he knew the sound of a charging shot well.

He moved purely on instinct, something that ganks had in abundance. Zero slid in front of Blue and pushed him down, focused entirely on the _pop_ of a blaster rifle as the heavy round tore into the side of his helmet. He shut down the searing pain in his jaw and drew his vibrosword as he bolted to the source of the shot. The spike of epinephrine released by his cybernetics—a lethally high dose for most organics—gave him the strength and speed to bolt through crowds of screaming Mandalorians and scrabble up the side of a building.

His brain barely registered the blur of activity as he swung onto the roof. In that instant, the rebel responsible, cloaked in indistinct robes, scrambled for their blaster pistol and fired another shot wide, yelling incoherently. Zero threw himself forward in his single-minded fit of rage and his vibroblade lunged with him with a precision and speed that the hitman clearly did not expect.

The smell of blood and gurgling death knell cleared the haze that overwhelmed Zero’s senses. With a flourish that sent speckles of red across the rooftop surface, he tore his blade from the would-be assassin and turned to climb down the building. The aftereffects of the rush made his limbs tremble while the bionics in his body tried to soothe his peripheral nervous system, but rest was the last thing on his mind.

Blue was curled in on himself against the entrance of a building with an overhang. It took some maneuvering to push through the hoard of civilians that joined him to reach the flash of bright red that marked his ward. Zero knelt to his level and clapped his organic hand on Blue’s shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I—,” the human started shakily, head jerking up. “Oh.”

Zero was about to respond, to ask if he was hurt. But he was silenced by the feeling of bare skin against his raw, torn flesh as Blue raised his hand to brush against the exposed spot in the blasted-through helmet.

His face was relatively untouched by external cybernetic enhancement, aside from a few inputs and his replacement eye. It was less about sentimental value or aesthetics (though he couldn’t deny that it played some part in the decision; he didn’t know how he’d deal with any more loss of identity) and more because there didn’t seem to be a point, but there was something crazy intimate about another living delicately combing singed hair from the burned pit left behind by the blaster shot after so many years of touch deprivation. “ _Di’kut,_ ” Blue admonished, brows furrowed as he turned Zero’s head this way and that, “There was absolutely _no reason_ you needed to take the hit!”

It felt strange to speak while conscious of the corner of his mouth exposed, and he tried hard to ignore the way Blue’s eyes shot to study the flash of jagged teeth. “Not enough time to pull you down from where I was, and they angled low.” The natural snarl of his lips turned into a slight smirk, “Would have just taken the top of your head instead of the whole thing, and I _think_ you need that part too.”

“How are you even talking with a _hole in your jaw?_ ”

Shrug. “Pain’s turned off.”

Blue rose with a huff and tugged on Zero’s wrist, shoving through the crowd clumsily in a beeline to the Wrengan compound. They entered through a side path opposite of the construction, Zero stumbling and tripping over his feet as Blue hurriedly and purposefully weaved through the maze of halls to the guest room that, over the last few years, had slowly been converted into Zero’s pad. “Shouldn’t we go to a medic?” The gank collapsed onto his cot with a sigh as Blue dug through the ‘fresher cabinet for medical supplies.

There was a snort. “Please, they’d have no idea how to treat you.” After a short clatter, he returned into the main room and sat cross-legged at Zero’s side. “Those idiots would probably refer us to a droid shop instead,” he murmured bitterly, pulling a delicate pair of scissors and bacta bandages from a medkit.

“And you do?”

Blue tensed up and blushed faintly, averting his eyes. “I—I’ve seen some stuff. On the holo.”

Zero chuckled, “So you’ve been reading up then?”

There was a moment of silence as Blue pouted, but he still hadn’t done anything to Zero’s face. He swayed nervously for a moment. “You’re going to have to take your helmet off. In case the burns go further than what I can see.”

Another moment of silence, this time tenser. Zero was glad that (most of) his expression was covered as he braced himself. “Yeah, alright.” He sat up, and hands moved to tug on the remaining release latching the faceplate to the headpiece, “I gotta toss this one anyway.” He really didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, even though this was normally a _big_ deal amongst other ganks, let alone other species. There weren’t many individuals that saw what they looked like under the armor who lived to tell the tale.

Both halves of the helmet clattered to the ground as he tossed them off. The terminals that studded his head in no discernable pattern were closed off once his helmet was disengaged, but his nerves still felt raw. Without the filter, he was almost overwhelmed with how the still air smelled. His perception of the world felt incomplete without the HUD giving him constant readouts of the environment. It was strange to look at Blue without little notes pouring into his periphery. The world was so _mundane._

The limited descriptions of what was known about gank facial features weren’t too far off, Blue concluded. He pushed Zero’s chin up to get a better angle at the wound and focused his attention on clipping blackened clumps of fur and cleaning the seared hide with gauze. A stifled hiss made him pause and look up into his companion’s beady eyes; one dark and natural, the other glinting with cybernetics.

Blue averted his gaze nervously when Zero focused on him, feeling so much like the intimidated preteen staring up at the towering figure clad in military-grade arms and blasterproof fabric. “They missed all of the important parts, I think,” he babbled, “Probably should put some bacta to keep your jaw from falling apart, or whatever. Why are you even feeling this? Turn off your pain.”

“Can’t,” Zero gritted through his teeth, exhaling with the cool release of bacta being applied to his face, “Helmet.”

“Ah.” Once the wound was cleaned of debris, Blue carefully adhered bacta patches to the inflamed tissue. He trimmed the excess away liberally, unsure if the patches would stick well on fur. “I’ll have to give you an override, then,” Blue murmured, more to himself than to Zero, “Something you can activate without your helmet. It won’t be as fine-tuned, of course, but it would certainly be an improvement on your quality of life.”

Once released from the small, fragile human hands that held him still, Zero nervously cracked his neck. He tried to avoid direct eye contact with Blue—it obviously made him uncomfortable—and referred to his usual method of breaking awkward tension by joking, “If you improve my quality of life any more, I’ll end up more spoiled than you.”

“Excuse _you!_ ” The way indignity cracked Blue’s teenage voice was never not amusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Di’kut:_ Mando'a; an idiot or a fool.


	2. Heat Stroke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zero just got so _bored_ doing stress tests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15BBY, Corvis Minor VI

The weather outside the cities on Corvis Minor VI was borderline unlivable at the best of times, let alone mid-heatwave. A hot fog blanketed the planet and made anyone who didn’t retreat to the comfort of climate controlled structures absolutely _miserable._ It was an unfortunate time for a young, newly-appointed human minister and his gank bodyguard to visit, especially when the conditions forced them to land in a spaceport kilometers from where they needed to be.

Zero expected Blue to be suffering the most. After all, his suit was normally well-equipped to keep his core temperature at a comfortable level. It was also normally able to deal with excess humidity. Combined, though?

A few hours after they loaded up the landspeeder and began to head out, the gank began having fits of coughing and shortness of breath. Blue quickly took over driving, watching out of the corner of his eye as his companion became more and more sluggish as the trip went on. Zero seemed fine in the moment, and until they got to the city, there wasn’t much he could do.

It was at a waystation two hours from their destination that Blue realized how serious this was becoming. 

“I know that they’re trying to test me,” Blue ranted, “They think that I’m not willing to get my hands dirty.” His leg bounced, irritated and caf-deprived, as he stared daggers into the vending machine that _sloooowly_ poured out an iced caf to his _exact_ specifications. Met with silence, he continued, “They think I’m too _young_ and they want to weed me out, is all. Do they really think that getting a little clammy is going to make me resign?”

He was obviously waiting for affirmation, but the only thing that Zero could muster was an croak and the scraping sound of his back sliding down the pillar he propped up against. He barely registered Blue rushing over, hands working frantically and uncharacteristic curses flying from his mouth. A gauge in his peripheries alerted him to dangerously high temperatures, adjacent to warnings about inoperative systems and suboptimal conditions. Popups notified him of several sloppy attempts to slice past his firewalls before deft hands pressed on the underside of the helmet to undo the seals. 

It was entirely too hot and entirely too humid for the air that rushed into the previously sealed environment of his suit to give Zero much relief, but he still panted and huffed in an instinctual attempt to cool off. The haze that overtook him started to clear as Blue skittered to the speeder for a lukewarm bottle of water, and suddenly Zero felt both exposed _and_ miserable. Perhaps even a touch embarrassed; he knew his suit was prepared to deal with temperature _or_ humidity, but he neglected testing for an extreme combination of both.

It would have been a deadly oversight if not for the insistent brat forcing water past a mouth ill-suited for the shape of the bottle’s lip. The rivulets soaking into the scraggly fur around his face weren't unwelcome, at least.

Once the bottle had been drained, Blue dropped it and hefted his companion up with an arm slung around his back and the abandoned helmet in the other hand. They staggered to the speeder and, as soon as Zero was settled in the passenger’s seat with every air vent pointed to his exposed face, the minister bypassed the speed lock on the vehicle and raced down their designated route.

If someone had told Zero that he would be intensely uncomfortable after ten minutes of silence from his employer five years ago, he would have laughed as he slit their throat. Now, though, the temperature seemed to jump from too-muggy-but-still-supports-life to _nuclear_ with the sheer amount of strangely maternal disappointment that radiated from Blue. Before he got an opportunity to say something, anything, he was cut off by a stern but placid, “Do you not trust me to take care of you, Zero?”

It really did feel like he was being scolded by a parent. “I thought I’d be fine when I rerouted power the first time an alarm went off—”

“The _first_ time?”

Whoops.

The air billowing around his bare face and rushing past his ears reminded him that he had no ability to shut off his audio sensors without the helmet on. Maybe he could convince his employer to make an override for _that_ too.

Seeing a grimace contort the snaggle-toothed snarl of Zero’s mostly-organic face somehow felt more intimate than when Blue saw him for the first time. The fur that grew over the scar was patchy.

The I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed voice quickly gave way to something that could be better described as something as close to a screech as Blue’s baritone could reach, “You _personally_ oversaw the construction of your suit, _including its limitations,_ and you’re telling me that you _ignore_ the alarms that you _specifically_ requested?”

By making the speeder a deathtrap vulnerable to bursting into flames or ramming into stationary objects or, force forbid, other moving vehicles at Mach 3, they reached the capital city a solid hour early. Unfortunately, the entire hour up to their arrival was filled with a combination of Blue playing keep-away with Zero’s helmet while simultaneously scolding him.

“If you pull this kriffing _osik_ again, I will _personally_ put a backdoor in your system so I can control you like a damn _puppet._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Osik:_ Mando'a; shit


	3. Conflict of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite being absurdly violent as a species, ganks had pretty good conspecific relationships. At least, until one had to kill the other for a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15BBY, Tatooine

Zero wasn’t entirely sure this situation fell under the category of “kriffing _osik_ ”, but he was nonetheless sure that he would get an earful when they arrived back at the Bluebird dripping in gank blood. Whether it belonged to him or someone else was still up in the air.

ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜsʟʏ sᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs. ɪᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ sᴏᴜɴᴅs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴅᴇᴀʟ.

It was difficult to describe the exact sensation of communicating with other ganks through implants. Despite appearing isolated from his species to anyone else, it happened quite often while he was jumping from bounty to bounty or, with his current contract, planet to planet with his charge. Usually, it was a passing greeting or the often grim conversations that passed for small talk within the species. That’s how _this_ situation initially started as; another gank in the bazaar he meandered through expressed curiosity in the kill count of his custom arm. It was an obvious mistake to stop directly adjacent to an alleyway, but the inquiry was _just_ enough distraction to draw his attention away from the oversight.

He knew something was wrong almost instantly. Blue had come along despite complaining that the setting was _far_ too plebian for his taste (not to mention the _sand_ ), so he had been stalking far too closely behind Zero and bumped into his bodyguard every time he stopped to check out an interesting piece of equipment. This time, there was no light thud against his back, nor was there a sharp protest.

The private chat he had with Blue flashed an uncharacteristically ineloquent, “i toldd u so” as he turned to watch an irate Blue get dragged around the corner, typing erratic admonishments to chat as his mouth was obstructed by a makeshift gag.

Zero’s faceplate displayed a flashing exclamation point as he bolted down the alley. ɪ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴏɴᴇsᴛʟʏ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋᴇᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ.

It was a mutual sense of comradery that stopped the ganks from immediately eviscerating each other. Instead, the others introduced themselves and explained how they had been hired by some-senator-or-another to assassinate “ᴛʜᴇ sʟᴇᴇᴍᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴜɢ ᴜᴘ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴀ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴀɴᴛ ɴᴇɢᴏᴛɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪ ʀᴇғᴇʀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ᴀs 'ᴋɪᴅ',” ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋ sᴏ ʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ. Zero had been frankly insulted by the paltry sum they were offered, and divulged some details of his own contract when pressed on the matter.

Corresponding with one another through their implants was faster than natural language, but relaying long, detailed information still took time. Blue was obviously not aware they were speaking at all. He glanced furtively between Zero and the gank he seemed to be staring at, blinking ellipses indicating the shift in his attention. The others had no such fancy screens to display their emotions on, instead occasionally vocalizing with haunting sounds that made him jump every time.

Zero shrugged, ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ. He paused momentarily. sᴏ... sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇ...?

The kidnappers looked amongst each other before nodding grimly. ᴏʜ. sᴜʀᴇ. ɢʟ, ʜғ.

The three least equipped of the four bounty hunters were quickly dispatched with deft cuts, leaving their presumed leader, clad in heavy plates and armed with brass knuckles, alone to duel Zero while Blue lept out of sight.

That day was not one of Zero’s best. It wasn’t like he was against killing his own kind, but maybe it was nostalgia combined with how pleasant this guy had been that caused him to hesitate. He didn’t feel nearly as bad for brutally executing him with a blade through the throat once he was punched directly in the face. The hot splatter of blood from his rival combatant streaked his cracked faceplate and seeped inside, smelling unpleasantly metallic to the naked nose. 

“So, that was interesting,” Blue called out from behind a dusty crate. His shoes were scuffed and hair ruffled, but he otherwise seemed unharmed, to Zero’s relief. He toed over the bodies and kicked their splayed limbs to the side. His glasses went nearly opaque with displays as one hand shot up to type, the other coming to tug Zero’s helmeted head down to better see the damage to the faceplate. Déjà vu.

There was something almost sweet and naïve about Blue when he wasn’t busy being an eccentric megalomaniac. The clear, pale blue of his eyes belayed his concern with the way he stared and frowned at the mess of plasteel that crumbled under his grip. “We’re going to have to find something that can deal with blunt trauma more effectively,” he murmured, plucking away chunks of tinted material to reveal more and more of a now-familiar face.

Zero tilted his head and snorted—less out of amusement and more because of the blood pouring from his nose—and reached up to unseal his helmet. “I usually don’t get hit in the face.” It took careful maneuvering to remove the ruined frame without further damaging bits of his face, though at least Blue had taken the time to install the crude full-body pain override he promised years before in his robotic arm. With a few gestures, he was numb to the dull ache of his facial bones as Blue poked and prodded at swollen and bruised flesh.

Pain override wasn’t equivalent to a total lack of feeling, and the streams of blood that poured from his wounds made his fur uncomfortably tacky. Blue winced at a gush of thick, clotting blood and took out the cleaning cloth for his glasses from an inside pocket of his vest. “So, care to explain why you stopped for two minutes before killing those goons? Or why _they_ stopped as well?” It was a sloppy fix, but he gestured for Zero to apply pressure to his broken nose and continued typing—presumably a report or perhaps searching for a better material for the faceplate. Or both. He was an extraordinary multitasker for a human.

The slight whirr of cybernetics as his bionic eye attempted to adjust to being cross-eyed made Blue fall out of focus in Zero’s vision. “I was—,” he started, sneering at how nasally he sounded, “I was talking to them.”

There was a pause. “Closed-circuit communication?”

Zero shrugged, “Something like that. Implants.” He didn’t elaborate.

He glanced back up just in time to catch Blue staring at him before quickly darting his gaze away back to the multitude of screens he’d begun projecting as a wall between them. Zero was still relatively sure that he was uncomfortable looking at what was objectively a terrifying face, but that didn’t explain why he kept _looking._


	4. Restraining Bolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were many primal instincts that ganks possessed that Zero thought he'd never have to deal with again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14BBY, Skako Minor

Blue’s insistence on personally going out on risky missions instead of orchestrating from the safety of the ship was significantly worse after the fiasco with Synox on Metalorn. Zero still wasn’t entirely sure what happened, but the bright-eyed excitement that turned to him whenever they landed anywhere remotely dangerous was starting to grate on his nerves.

He had to set reasonable boundaries, and this certainly was one in his professional opinion. “Humans can’t survive in this atmosphere, buddy.”

“I could wear a mask!” Blue insisted, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly, “Or a suit!”

“The atmospheric pressure,” Zero sighed, an eye roll animating on his face, “Would have a human bleeding internally within the hour. We don’t have the right equipment to protect you from that.”

“Why not?!”

“ _Because you’re not supposed to leave the ship in these conditions._ ”

“But Synox—”

“—Has high-grade imperial armor _specifically_ for these types of situations,” he interrupted, stepping forward to loom over the minister. It was an effective tactic, and Blue had backed down and was on the ship as they hit planetside.

It wasn’t very long before he was yelling directly into the group’s closed comms as Synox shot at droids owned by one of Blue’s now-disgraced political rivals. None of this was inherently problematic, but the heavily modified restraining bolt that latched onto the side of Zero’s helmet was. As soon as the assassin droid got a hold of him and slammed it against his head, the systems running most of his primary functions shut down. It was profoundly embarrassing, too, since he was _pretty_ sure it was the type of droid that Blue had enough information on that he could have disabled it before it got close had he come along with them. Maybe if he succumbed to the sweet embrace of death, he wouldn’t have to listen to the ten-point lecture on why he should never leave his ward behind. 

So now, the world was out of focus and there were conspicuous patches of his vision that were just _missing._ The paralysis from the deactivation of the motor nerves down his spine made him sprawl limply at Synox’s feet. The worst part was maybe the inability to block somatosensory inputs making flares of pain rip up his left shoulder from phantom limb and across his body from new and old injuries. Or was it the tinnitus that made every sound sear hot irons through his skull? _Maybe_ the worst part was the sudden lack of hormone and neurotransmitter control making him slowly dip into an absolute, all-encompassing _rage_ as the normally stabilizing chemical cocktail filtered through his bloodstream. He’d probably be roaring incoherently if his vocal systems worked.

“You need to get out of there _this instant!_ ” Blue crackled. Zero’s comms were spared of total shutdown, but the disconnected circuitry made everything pitchy and staticky and _unbearable._

“Working on it!” Synox hefted Zero over his shoulder and began his sprint through vivid, winding greenery to the clearing where the ship was parked. Blaster fire shot past them as an airlock hissed open and Zero was unceremoniously thrown in. Sy’s returning fire ceased when the door shut with a _thud_ and depressurized the chamber. Zero could distantly hear the automated liftoff sequence initiating and the commander removing his helmet with an annoyed huff as he was whisked away with arms lifting him from either side, one obviously stronger than the other. 

Bright lights flashed in his periphery as outputs flared onto Blue’s glasses, “We’re going to need to strap him down.”

“Sir?” Fentara questioned from his other side, and maybe it was the tone of voice or the very fact that she was doubting Blue’s judgement that made Zero seethe irrationally.

She was met with no answer until they reached the medical bay. A droid helpfully set up a cot with physical restraints at Blue’s digital command and he turned towards Ren, “Out.”

The droid buckled Zero’s limbs as soon as he was bodily tossed onto the bed. The trooper looked blankly between him and Blue for a moment before saluting and stepping out.

Decrypting the bolt would take a while, but Blue was moderately certain that taking the helmet off would at least reboot most of Zero’s core systems passively. The moment the seals gave way under his fingers, his bounty hunter was writhing weakly against the binders securing him to the bed and hissing animalistically at the poor droid that attempted to take his vitals. 

Blue sat back into a visitor’s chair and tinkered with the bolt, glancing up with each sound of struggle as Zero worked through his fit. The sharp, jagged teeth didn’t look so bad when he was neutral, or even smiling, but now the fluorescent overhead light made them glisten and highlighted the knife-like points with each snap. Zero’s eyes flicked across the room aimlessly, zoning in on the flash of lights and slightest signs of movement. Every predatory feature that he had left in his broken body was on display.

It should have been terrifying, or at the very least concerning, but something about the sight made Blue feel a strange mixture of pride and comfort. There was no anger directed at him; rather, all of the animosity seemed aimed at anything and everything that approached either of them. He was well aware of the notorious gank temper and had seen what had happened when Zero had gone into minor, more controlled frenzies, but he never believed that any of that could lead to injury towards himself. It looked like his intuition was correct.

Scratchy growls faded into breathy pants over the next few minutes, until Zero was lethargically wheezing as he came down. The code Blue was executing scrolled across his glasses display automatically, giving him the chance to peer up over the rims.

The droid came by and unclasped Zero’s limbs as whirring arms took readings of his bodily functions. He sat up with intermittent tremors and slurred into the room, “Sorry ‘bout that.” His nerves felt raw as the urge to howl madly faded back into the suppressed primal part of his brain. The sudden recurrence of latent functions made him nauseous, but whether that was a biological or emotional thing was up for debate.

Blue shrugged, “Not your fault.” There was a ping of a blocked slice attempt that gave him pause. His busy fingers worked to modify his hack as he continued, “It’s astronomically unlikely that someone would be able to get through the firewalls into your vital functions, but I suppose that isn’t a guarantee that it wouldn’t happen.” Another ping. He kept rambling, “They must have been working on it for _months,_ and I can’t _imagine_ the lengths they went in order to get information on the specifications of your cybernetics. It didn’t all come from the same place, right? So they—”

“I dunno, boss,” Zero interrupted, kicking his legs over the edge of the cot, head bowed and rolling his shoulders as the furs standing up at the nape of his neck receded. “Probably got’em from some old acquaintances.”

“You _associate_ with people that would sell your records?”

He shrugged, “For the right price.” The flash of teeth from a grin looked significantly less intimidating with how he glanced at Blue with obvious mischief, “Must’ve been’a good deal.”

Huffing, Blue glared through the opaque HUD to the bolt, “I do hope I pay you enough to _not_ do that.”

Zero laughed, low and tired, “You know me better than that by now.”


	5. Influenza(?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zero was used to waking up with hangovers. This didn't feel like a hangover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13BBY, The Bluebird

It wasn’t like Zero had a firewall _instead of_ an immune system; he was still an organic being first and foremost. The filter on his helmet and minor tweaks in his blood composition generally made him immune to disease, but rarely something would hit, and if he caught something it must have been strong enough to leave him bedridden for days. So when news spread through word of mouth (word of… implants?) that something nasty from Tatooine was affecting even the more enhanced individuals, Zero was immediately on guard.

There was only so much he could do when his employer demanded his presence all across the galaxy, though. The pressure in his sinus as he woke up one morning was more than enough to let him know that he caught the (biological, according to the antivirus readout beside his head) bug.

The slow drawl of what should have been a rare instance of soothing piano music from the atrium was scratchy and high to Zero’s sensitized ears, making him groan and writhe in his pod. It was like something burrowed into his head and was trying its best to push everything else _out._ He drew up his hand—wearing a cyborg arm to sleep was really inconvenient, and he didn’t expect them to be ambushed _in hyperspace_ —and tapped shakily at the screen displaying his DMs to Blue.

**zer0x** : blu.  
 **zer0x** : bhuddy  
 **zer0x** : addy   
**zer0x** : pal  
 **zer0x** : almighty lord of the net  
 **zer0x** : bluuuuuue

The piano stopped.

**Blue** : Oh, you finally woke up. Good afternoon. What?  
 **zer0x** : im duing  
 **zer0x** : dying*  
 **zer0x** : im gonna di e here  
 **Blue** : Are you hungover again?

The clack of a cane matched with Blue’s even, purposeful footsteps amplified as he presumably grew closer.

> **zer0x** has been renamed **influenzer0** by user.  
 **influenzer0** : worse  
 **influenzer0** : im sickkkkkkkkkk  
 **influenzer0** : blease help  
> **Blue** has been renamed **nurseBlue** by **influenzer0**.  
 **influenzer0** : bblease

There was shuffling out in the cockpit.

> **nurseBlue** has been renamed **Blue** by user.  
> **influenzer0** has been renamed **Crybaby** by **Blue**.  
 **Crybaby** : when i die   
**Crybaby** : tell aava   
**Crybaby** : sbe was my best friend  
 **Crybaby** : she*

The sleeping pod was opened and captain’s seat slid back to reveal an indignant face hovering over, “I thought I was your best friend!” Blue’s face dropped the instant he paused to take in the image of a snotty, pained expression on his companion’s unmasked face. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Zero croaked, blinking away auras from the bright overhead lights. Blue winced and gestured to dim the room with one hand and pulled his cleaning cloth from an inner pocket with the other. The gank sat up slowly and weakly, scratching at dried gunk ( _gank gunk, hah_ ) matting the fur of his face.

Blue hesitated and dabbed at the fur and skin around Zero’s organic eye. He drew back and stared at the residue, “Huh.” His employee peered over and frowned deeply (or as deep as he could with how snarly his face already was) at the blotch of sickly greenish-brown that stained the grey fabric. “Huh,” Blue repeated, “Sinus discharge?”

“Kriffin’ hope so,” Zero sniffled, “Either that or some of my brain’s leaking out.” He dropped his head into his hand and rubbed at the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to clear up the stuffiness that made him dizzy. “It’s about the right color.”

“I think you need most of that,” Blue deadpanned. He shuffled to the attached bathroom and fished around the drawers for gank-safe meds and a glass for water. “What is it this time?”

“Sinuses, ‘course,” Zero grumbled, “Mmm. Sensitivity to sound and light, too. Pressure in my head.” He stood unsteadily and leaned against the console where a gleaming chrome arm lay, “Vestibular interference? Dunno.” The tremble of his hand was making it hard to attach his cybernetic limb. “Feel like my head’s in a different place than my body.” Now attached, he gestured vaguely with his inorganic hand.

> **Crybaby** has been renamed **infected_infiltrat0r** by user.

By the time Blue reentered the room, Zero was halfway back to his reclined seat. A handful of colorful tablets and a water glass was pushed onto him while his employer fiddled with the chair controls manually. He had to carefully maneuver the glass around his mouth to not to spill water as he gulped down the drugs, but the cold liquid soothed some of the roughness scratching his throat.

Alien discharge was gross, but at least it wasn’t transmittable to humans, Blue reassured himself as he pulled Zero back down onto his seat, angled slightly back. His hand brushed against a bare patch of skin by his comrade’s ear and felt nearly burnt by the high fever from a creature already warmed by mechanical enhancements. “Damn,” he hissed, pulling away quickly, “Fever too. What _is_ this?”

The world around Zero swerved suddenly, making his guts coil in protest. He twisted to the side and groaned, “Nausea.” In the blink of an eye, Blue shoved a bag from an overhead compartment into his hands and rushed out, leaving the ill gank to vomit and hack bile and phlegm into the bag alone until he returned with a bedpan and a medical droid draped in towels. He was limping without the cane in a way that was obviously painful, but the steadiness of the hands that toweled around his mouth made Zero deliriously believe that he didn’t need it.

Frankly, the droid was doing most of the work. It prodded incessantly to measure all sorts of bodily functions and stabbed a few doses something-or-another from a hypo into the bare portions of Zero’s arm. Blue fussed and picked at his fur in a distinctly primate-like way that he would relentlessly tease about if he wasn’t preoccupied with spitting out the brackish remains of last night’s dinner. A cool towel wiping across his forehead made him moan in relief between agonized, panting breaths.

“I think,” Blue huffed, wiping away sick, “That you need to let _me_ take care of you for once.”

Zero snorted and rasped, “And what’re your qualifications, doc?”

“I’m your best bud, _obviously,_ ” Blue preened, as if that were better than any possible medical degree. He tilted the half-full glass to Zero’s face and cooed wordlessly as it was drained, receiving a tired glare. “Don’t act like you’re too good to be doted on by your most faithful friend,” the minister admonished.

“‘Most faithful friend’ may be a stretch there, _boss._ ” Curiously, for a split second, Blue radiated discomfort, like he wanted to say something. The look passed as soon as it crossed his face and he immediately began to get in the droid’s way to mother Zero, voice soft with fondness.

“Ungrateful.”


	6. A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [REDACTED]BBY, The Bluebird  
> After the events of [REDACTED].

It was calm enough that they could take time to _relax_ for once. Not that Blue seemed capable. He sprawled out awkwardly, perpendicular across the copilot’s seat and tapping away at a virtual keyboard—musical, rather than technical. He was on his thirteenth cup of caf since lunch and it was _just_ starting to show with how tense his limbs were, tangled and twitching in the nooks of the armrests.

The grumbling of his stomach distracted Zero from his loth-cat vids long enough to look at the time. “Oh,” he murmured, turning to his companion, “We should probably eat.”

The minister waved his hand in the air boredly, “We just ate.”

“Blue.”

“Hm?”

“It’s three hours ‘til the next day cycle.”

Blue’s fingers paused for a moment and his head tilted back at a ridiculous angle, glancing at the pendulum chrono that hung on the wall behind him. He exhaled into a petulant groan and brought his hands up to rub his eyes, displacing his glasses until they were dangerously close to falling off of his face, “Everything’s probably _cold_ and _gross_ now!”

Zero’s faceplate displayed a crooked frown as he murmured aloud, “I guess I could try making something since we just restocked on perishables.”

He was met with an incredulous look. “You can _cook?_ ”

A pink blush lit up the faceplate’s cheeks. “I mean, it’s not _that_ great. Had to be able to make something edible if I had to hunt someone down to some backwater planet.”

Blue’s face scrunched up. He lazily rolled his neck to look towards the mess, “So you’re just going to cook for me and eat your gross nutrient paste alone in your pod?” He stood with a huff and snatched his cane, “Absolutely not. Join me. That’s an order.”

Zero rolled his eyes and teased, “You’re only _technically_ an admiral while we’re flying, y’know.” Blue began to beeline towards the kitchen and he followed close, “And not even a military admiral, I don’t think? And _I’m_ not military.”

The mess was completely deserted. In the serving area was a pan where a few scoops of something layered and heavily sauced sat, coagulating. Blue hooked his free hand on the lip of the container and looked to Zero with a complicated expression, hesitating. After a moment, he grumbled wordlessly and tossed the entire thing, pan and all, into the garbage chute at the entrance to the kitchen. 

All of the appliances were shined to a chrome finish and the polished marble of the countertops were pristine, as expected the middle of the night cycle. Blue stopped in the middle of the space and gestured broadly, “Well?”

Zero grinned under his helmet and slowly, purposefully inspected the kitchen elements. “I dunno, buddy,” he drawled, “What could I even make to satisfy your _refined_ palate?” As he spoke, he kicked open one of many fridges and pulled out some frilly greenery to inspect. Blue’s face soured at the choice and he gave his bodyguard a withering look. Zero’s teasing smirk mirrored on the faceplate in pixels, and he replaced the vegetation with something decidedly more appetizing, to his ward’s relief.

It had truly been _years_ since he’d done anything resembling cooking, so Zero’s movements around the kitchen were stilted, and he caught himself forgetting key steps and doubling back often. Blue silently watched him through narrowed eyes for a few minutes before sighing, “Do you need help?”

“Do _you_ know how to cook?”

“How,” Blue said, aimlessly into the room and defensively loud as he snatched up a knife, “Do you want these cut?” The weak grip and unsteadiness of his hand made Zero wince with blinking exclamation points on his helmet. “How about you just get the rest of what we need and we’ll see what you can do?” The list he sent over chat was short, but Blue was probably even less accustom to their setting considering he never saw the inside of a pantry in his entire spoiled life.

The way Blue puttered helplessly around the kitchen like a newborn nerf would have been cuter if he weren’t a geometric nightmare. Nonetheless, his face in profile with drawn brows and sharp features was still a pleasant sight as he puzzled through faded labels. Zero cut tubers with speed and precision, as expected of a master swordsman, and gradually filled a pot with the things Blue fetched, sparing glances between each drawn action.

Boiling broth and spices made the air rich and savory. Something in Blue was being slowly suffocated by the physical expression of affection in the form of food, despite the way his empty stomach protested. He looked to his guard and admired the distant glow of a cybernetic eye under the matte, opaque transparasteel of his guard’s faceplate. “Why do you care?”

The comment made Zero visibly jump. He stared blank-masked at his ward for a few tense moments before tilting his head, irritated, “Why do I care about _what?_ Stopping the guy that pays my bills from _starving himself_ on a regular basis?”

“I don’t pay you for any of…” Blue gestured vaguely between them, “… any of this.” Met with silence, he continued to babble, “Because… I know I can be hard to get along with, and I’m not particularly good at. You know. Personal stuff?” His inarticulate rambling made him cringe internally, but that didn’t seem to stop his mouth very effectively. “ _Professional_ relationships are easy. Whatever we are now… isn’t.” Caffeine on an empty stomach was making his head throb. “I could have had the leftovers.”

Zero considered this and hummed, staring at the roiling bubbles of stew. His hands came up, paused as he inhaled slowly with obvious anxiety, and then unlatched his helmet with a hiss. The feeling of fresh air on his bare skin and fur was becoming increasingly familiar, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. His face twisted into a weird expression, flipping between pained and affectionate. He filled the lull as he thought of a response by grabbing a fork from an overheard cupboard and prodding at a hunk of meat that melted in his mouth when he bit into it, rich and delightfully unhealthy for his organic parts. Blue’s eyes followed the movement intently and he felt the burning trail they traced on his face.

“I dunno what I’m doing either,” Zero finally murmured. Even the simple statement felt weighty from his oil-slicked lips, revealing vulnerability that was ridiculously uncomfortable out in the open. Blue, though, looked so much smaller and so uncertain with himself and Zero would rather die than cause that sort of internalized conflict again.

The kid was going to give him premature gray fur.

The clear, piercing blue gaze that tracked him as he approached faded to something softer and almost pleading the closer he got. One of his hands (why was he _shaking?_ ) came up to cradle the human’s jaw and the slow blink he received in response made his heart jump into his throat. A purr manifested in his chest, “But I wouldn’t be opposed to calling this a dinner date if you’d let me seduce you.”

“You think I’m annoying,” Blue breathed, blunt but nonetheless leaning into the touch. Zero smelled of leather and fragrant homemade meals. It made his stomach flit restlessly with something terrifying and unfamiliar and _addicting._ He felt frustrated at the uncertain twitch of his hands at his sides and forced himself to sling his arms over Zero’s broad shoulders, bringing their faces close enough to breath into each other’s mouths.

The gank chuckled weakly, thin and fragile like a taut string in his throat, “Just makes it easier to bully you, Adnau.” He grunted as their lips suddenly met, passionate but uncharacteristically tender. Blue tasted bitter against him, like unsweetened caf and sleep deprivation, but it was like a delicacy he couldn’t help but enjoy as they pressed against each other from head to toe.

Being pushed away made Blue whine, “I don’t—”

“Food,” Zero interrupted, breathless. “We gotta eat,” he continued, suppressing a laugh at the childish glare that challenged him. His body went hot as the human draped over him with most of his borderline malnourished weight and complained with spoiled nobility creeping back into his voice, “Feed me, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me everyone! I love to make villains with explicit sexual tension kiss. That's all.


End file.
